


Autumn's Touches

by Rose_of_Pollux



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen, Introspection, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 06:39:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8194054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_of_Pollux/pseuds/Rose_of_Pollux
Summary: In which the coming of autumn has secret meanings for Illya.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [teddybear555](https://archiveofourown.org/users/teddybear555/gifts).



Illya was looking out the window that morning, pausing to notice the ice crystals on the glass–familiar shapes and designs that he would have seen on the windows back in Kiev.

Illya never looked too fondly back on his childhood; by all accounts, it was rather unpleasant–alone by the age of five, trying to survive a war, and then, just trying to survive alone. In fact, the first frost always was a warning that life would soon be at its most difficult for his younger self–cold and hunger went hand in hand.

But, now, the frost on the windows that heralded the coming of autumn–and winter not too far behind it–reminded Illya of other things. That home was here now, in New York. With Napoleon.

The frost meant that Napoleon would soon be lighting the fireplace, and that the two of them would be spending their evenings off in front of it, a drink for each of them as they talked and talked well into the night; they never ran out of things to talk about.

It meant that he and Napoleon would spend their days off on the town, and Napoleon would gripe and complain about the temperature while Illya got to scoff at him for not being able to handle the cold, that winter in New York was _nothing_ compared to Moscow, and that Napoleon would only stand it for a month before giving up and leaving.

It meant that the inevitable invitation from Napoleon’s parents to visit them would be coming; usually, they went during Christmas and New Year’s, assuming they weren’t working through them, visiting that large house where Napoleon grew up, and though Illya would get jealous of his partner having spent much of his life in luxury and happiness in a house that was probably bigger than all the apartments Illya had lived in combined, the jealousy never lasted long, as he knew Napoleon was sharing it all with him now, and had given him a family to be a part of again–something that Illya had thought he’d never have again.

And though he would never admit it for fear of sounding sentimental, Illya enjoyed these moments of peace, when it was just them, with no THRUSH to worry about.

And without even saying it, he knew that Napoleon felt the same way, too.


End file.
